Rensselaer Republican, Volume 20, Number 33, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 April 1888 — HOW A MURDERER FEELS. [ARTICLE]

HOW A MURDERER FEELS.

A Condemned Man Describes His Sensations of His Coming Doom. Philadelphia North American. Lyons, the condemned murderer, described his sensations to a New York reporter the other day. He said: “After I was arrested I felt sore that I would be acquitted, and I did not think much about hanging, although I knew thatjf the jury were against me 1 would hatfe to face that site. Well, when the trial was over and the jury gave their verdict, my mind was filled, naturally, with thoughts about the gillows, and though I couldn’t help feeling that something would happen to save me, still, every once in a while there would come the horrible thought of a rope being put around my neck and of my being choked when it would be drawn tight, and then of dropping down like so much lead, ani then lingering half dead and alive. All I had ever heard or read of accidents at executions came baek to me: the bungling of the sheriff’s men; the slipping of the noose; the tearing of the flesh and cords in the neck, and all those other things, all of them would get into my head, and I tell you the feedng was awful. The only relief was to dream that something would happen 90 that I could get ofl free.” “As you have thought about it, what has seemed to you as likely to be the most trying moment?” “The walk to the gallows. Or, no; eay, perhaps, the moment when the guard comes to your cell to take you out That, I think, would perhaps be the worst minute. My God! man, just think about it yourself. Here you have had life, and perhaps have had some fun out of it. You’ve been convicted and been in a cell for a long time. That’s been a great change, but after a while you get h little bit used to it, and then just as you are getting used 10 it and hoping—hoping ail the time that sometning will turn up to get you off—the last day comes and you wake up or get up some morning that you know is going to be your last. If you have any heart at all you must be stirred up; you might call it rocky. Every little noise frightens you, and then you must break down, even though you don’t show it, while you are waiting. Then the warden or somebody comes, and the blow is struck out at you. What is it but just an invitation to come out of your cell and start on a last walk, the last time to use your legs, the last time to look on another man’s face? Why, I’ve sat here and tiied my best to think what would be my feelings then. I know I would feel that it was the end of all, and that my death would come in a couple of minutes or so, but what else I’d feel I can’t tell. Sometimes I get the idea that after the Bhock of the command to get ready to walk to the scafiold the rest is pretty nearly a blank. That is it would probably be so in my case. I don’t believe I’d realize much in going from my cell to the place where I would die.”